Sorry this is much much much (ad infinitum) later than intended, but better late than never, right? Blame the A-levels. (and Mum's cancer, Grandma's blood clot, Dad's job loss… this hasn't been high on my list of priorities recently) Thank you so much for all reviews, fav's, alerts and even just reading the damn thing. It means an awful lot to me. Also, another mistake in the last chapter (*headdesk*) involving the Crogs. I put 'full-arm chokehold'. It wasn't one, 'cause Crog arms are absolutely massive and Rick would actually be dead and they'd have nothing to identify the body with. I didn't mean to put that, but I did mean to infer that the grip around Rick's neck was full-strength and should, by rights, have snapped it.
Now, on to the very first race following the pre-selections. Here we go!
It was time. Soon, very soon, the first race to be held on Oban would begin. Molly and Jordan were already snug and ready in their respective seats, the mechanics having just finished the final checks.
"The Whizzing Arrow III is ready to roll!" Koji confirmed aloud, businesslike in posture and mindset. At least, until the floor beneath him began to glow as though someone was shining a searchlight up through it. He looked down, fear worming its way into his heart and tightening his gut. He was standing directly on one of three lines that segmented the floor into three triangles, a fourth line forming a circle beneath the ship itself.
The floor was going to open underneath them.
Stan's cry snapped him out of it and he followed his partner, both of them seeking to clear the immediate area before they were dropped along with the Arrow.
A clink caught Koji's attention, and he became aware of a loss of weight in his overalls. Turning sharply, he spied the tool that had fallen to the floor, directly on one of the glowing lines. That was his lucky wrench!
The redhead knew exactly what Koji was thinking— he'd gotten him that wrench one birthday, after all— and called to him. "Koji, get out of there! Hurry!"
But the young man was torn; it was just a wrench, but it meant an awful lot to him. It had been the first present anyone had ever put any forethought into for him. With a lurch of his stomach, Koji felt the floor drop, and used what was still horizontal enough to run on, almost making it to safety.
Almost.
Reaching for Stan's outstretched hand, he screamed as he started to fall. Fortunately, his reflexes were better than people tended to expect, and he managed to catch the stone rim, his torso colliding painfully with the now-vertical floor and knocking the wind out of him. Unfortunately, he was exactly as strong as people expected him to be, and wouldn't be able to hold on for very long. He managed to regain enough breath to choke out Stan's name and a plea for help.
That familiar, gloved hand grabbed his own just as he slipped, pulling him up. Another, not-so-familiar hand seized a fistful of the back of his shirt and overalls, hoisting him entirely up over the edge. Looking up as his organs put themselves back where they should be and his heart stopped freaking out, he was relieved to see not only Stan but Rick as well. Not that he didn't trust Stan with his life— he did, no doubt about that, more than anyone in existence— but Rick's superior strength made is less likely that Koji would have pulled his dear friend with him to their doom. Unlikely, but a frightening possibility.
Speaking of his dear friend, Stan looked only half-terrified now, the other half thoroughly exasperated. "For a wrench, Koji? Seriously?"
If Rick was shocked by this revelation, he did little more than raise an eyebrow.
The half-Japanese mechanic looked down, flushing in shame and embarrassment. "I-I know, that was really stupid but…"
Stan heaved a sigh. "I'll get you a new one, geez." There was an underlying understanding to his tone, and Koji smiled.
"Hate to cut this heart-warming moment short, but you both okay?" Rick interrupted. "'Cause I think Molly's gonna need a little help with that crazy drop."
Molly did, indeed, need help. It would have been difficult enough to control the Arrow's descent with a seatbelt; without one, she was clinging to the handlebars of her grafted rocketseat for dear life, her legs actually above her head as she fell.
Her partner was faring a little better, as he did have a seatbelt, but was having a great deal of trouble controlling the gun turret in this free-fall. It rocked and rolled and threatened to remove itself from the main body of the ship, and the G-force was giving him some serious grief. The male body was generally not as well equipped to deal with it, and Jordan in particular was not designed for it at all. He really didn't understand how a bulky guy like Rick could handle something like this so effortlessly.
Outside, the muted blues and fluffy whites of cloud and sky blurred past, even the orbiting planets seemed to glide upwards, the only constant being the varied and shifting ships rapidly losing altitude alongside them. Molly had finally managed to wrestle herself onto her seat, legs clamped tightly around it. "We're going too fast here!" She cried out, desperate for some kind of aid at this point, filling with terror and thoughts of dashing themselves upon the craggy ravines that could be glimpsed below.
Koji and Stan dove into their chairs, Don and Rick right behind them.
"Star racers aren't meant to fly! Not-not like this!" Koji's mind was whirring, possible solutions and theories flying through his mind in the blink of an eye, coupled with the myriad of information on the screen in front of him. "Push all lift reactors to the max!"
"Got it!" That's exactly what Molly did. The Arrow shuddered once before the reactors activated, and their descent slowed significantly, though the ship shuddered again, straining against the inexorable force of gravity, still moving dangerously swiftly towards the planet's surface.
Rick stood firm, as though he were falling through the sky with the pilot and gunner himself, steeling against the forces around and inevitable stop they would eventually reach. His brow was furrowed and voice urgent, any fear hidden, as he asked a question that hadn't crossed either mechanics' minds. "Can you spare any power for the stabilisers?"
"Oh!" Koji perked up. "Of course!— yes, go for it!"
"Re-routing a small percentage of power now."
"Right, here we go!" The stabilisers kicked in, and the shaking and shuddering of the hull lessened, the fall much more controlled now. Molly grinned. "Thanks, Rick! You're a genius!"
He chuckled, remembering the number of times she'd verbalised that same thought to Koji. "I bet you say that to all the boys." He teased in a sultry voice.
She laughed too, and Don angrily cut them off. "Not now! Focus, the both of you!"
Rick responded with a flick of his adorned wrist, causing his elder to grind his teeth.
There was a ravine directly below the Arrow III, a deep cut into the terrain that was criss-crossed with huge, thick tree roots all the way down like some huge, demented pinball-type game. With a few crashes and bangs, though far fewer than there could have been, Molly managed to settle the racer along the ravine's base.
Koji's relieved voice filtered through the communications system. "Hull okay at ninety four percent. Wouldn't risk trying the boosters out, though." Molly smiled a little, wiping the sweat from her brow.
A couple of small beeps signalled someone patching through visuals, and the soft vwhorr of a holographic screen materialising caught her attention. Stan's grinning face appeared. "Excellent work Molly! We'll fix this little problem after the race." He shot her a thumbs up, winking like in some corny TV ad. "That's a promise!"
In the gun turret, Jordan was practically melting with relief, both physical and otherwise. Clutching his dogtags with both hands, he sighed and kissed his grandfather's twice in both habit and genuine gratitude. He was fully aware that that could have ended very, very badly.
They cruised along a much clearer path in the ravine for a while, Molly looking around for whatever they might be seeking. "Satis said stone doors; do you see anything on your scanners?"
It was a scowling Don Wei who replied, as though he were talking to a misbehaving young child. She didn't take offence; he always spoke that way. "We don't have enough data yet Molly. Keep following the others for now."
Sure enough, there was a racer up ahead that seemed a more suited to be a seafaring vessel than a star racer. They started to pull up alongside it, and the tiny figures on deck appeared to completely panic, running around like headless chickens or jumping up and down with their arms in the air and screaming for all they were worth. Jordan was utterly, utterly stunned. He'd never laid eyes on such a useless combat group in all his life. It would have been funny, if it weren't so pathetic. A small laugh slipped passed his lips almost absently as a result.
He didn't find it quite so amusing when intricately and archaically designed cannons popped out of the side of it and started firing laser-enhanced cannonballs. Jordan wasn't aware of his militaristic game face slipping on, focused only on the enemy's fire and ways to neutralise the threat. "Molly! Watch out!"
Reactions ever-swift, Molly still wasn't quite able to avoid one devastating blow that threw the whole ship off slightly, leaving them almost limping as she attempted to restabilise the racer. However, this meant they also couldn't avoid one of the roots that stretched across the ravine, increasing the distance between them further.
Jordan grinned fiercely, aiming the lasers at the enemies' cannons, untroubled by the undefended people out in the open. He would have been if they were taller— he was conditioned to be aggressive, but he was no killer— but their heads were a good distance below the cannons, probably for that very reason. Yes, the lasers ricocheted a little off the metallic hull, but they 'shattered' and lost power upon impact, leaving anything remaining with little more than a sting. Didn't stop the crewmen running around like idiots though. Good grief.
His grin was only reinforced as they duck-and-covered, their lack of return fire enabling the Arrow to pull ahead. He kept firing from in front, watching the vessel bob and weave drunkenly in an attempt to evade him. They turned around a corner that separated the two ships completely, but Jordan didn't let himself relax.
"Here's the door." Molly informed anyone listening, passing through aforementioned door; a simple, almost crumbling stone circle suspended midair on the course. A glow passed through it as they did the same, spreading outwards to form the Avatar's stylised 'wings' in a swift pulse that made it seem like they were being drawn in the air before disappearing again.
"Looks like we've got something." Koji replied. "The stone doors emit pulsar vibrations; if I can decode it we might be able to trace them."
"Sounds good." Rick offered. "Looks like things are gonna be a little easier from here on out."
"Don't count on it."
"Ever the pessimist, Don. I never won a race with that attitude."
"I have to be, to balance out your childish optimism."
"Hey!" Molly called out. "Not now, guys! Flirt later!"
Don sputtered incredulously in shocked indignity whilst Rick faked surprise, struggling to keep the smirk off his face. "You were making moves on me? That's disgusting, you could pass for my dad! You should be ashamed of yourself."
Jordan rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. Sometimes they all seemed like one big dysfunctional family. Hell of a lot better than Boot Camp, at any rate.
His mood dropped considerably, eyeing up the large beetle in front of them. The temptation to keep the beast in his crosshairs was there, but he'd promised himself he'd let up if Aikka did the same. They'd agreed, and the frog had been more courteous that expected. And… the guy seemed a little bit more attached to his beetle than Jordan had thought. 'I figured it was just the Nourasian form of transport, not actually a pet…'
Okay, maybe, just maybe, he was feeling a tad bit guilty for shooting at them.
Maybe.
He felt irritated at how easily and sharply the creature could manoeuvre around the roots, but he guessed that was what their home planet was like, kinda. And, of course, one of the advantages of having a living mount instead of a mechanical racer was that they tended to avoid things like trees without any outside influence. Couldn't just patch up the hull or replace broken parts afterwards, though. And star racers didn't get sick, and so on and so forth.
"Jordan?" Molly's wary voice filled the gun turret, and her face appeared beside him. "You behaving yourself over there?"
He almost made a snarky comment, but she looked so very hopeful he couldn't bring himself to do it. "'Course I am. We buried the hatchet, didn't we?"
The restraint he was exercising right now was more than he cared to admit. Every fibre screamed Crog Ally and Not Safe. His fingers twitched, aching to pull the trigger, to eliminate the threat (without killing, just bring the mount down and, dammit, no, he was not feeling guilty). Logic told him that Aikka wasn't that bad really and he didn't think he'd hurt Molly on purpose… but damn, old habits die hard and deeply-ingrained prejudices die harder.
But then Molly smiled, and she looked so happy and so proud. "That's good to hear, partner." And she sounded so sincere, and she called him partner. Made him feel like he meant something to someone beyond orders and missions and objectives. Suddenly, he found that easing off of the trigger really wasn't so hard.
"Yeah, well, Princey'd better be grateful."
She giggled in that way only she did. It really did sound nice, her laughter. "I'm sure Aikka will appreciate the gesture." She deactivated the visuals, and focused back on the race. 'She really should laugh more often, she's way too mopey too much of the time.'
Whilst Jordan had been preoccupied, Molly had pulled up alongside the Prince. He didn't seem hostile, but he didn't seem friendly either. 'Hey, is it just me, or does he look… apologetic?'
"Um sekai G'dar shalanar."
He wasn't entirely sure what happened next, only that the frog had done something to throw them off course and miss the door. Molly had to bring the Arrow around to pass through, losing them precious seconds.
"Rude!"
"He's racing to win, Jordan, just like us. Take a chill pill."
"Doesn't make it any less rude and you know it!"
"Yeah, well…"
Brushing aside the guilt he felt for using such a tactic against his friend… friends… Aikka kept G'dar flying ahead as fast as possible without overstraining the beetle. He had told Kross that he had come to win and would, and it could prove fatal to lean too far away from that. His kingdom, his planet, was little more than a vassal state to the Crog Imperium as a result of this 'alliance', and his people came first. They had to.
He just… didn't want to give up what he'd found here. In the Earth Team. In Molly...
G'dar shrieked. Over the years, he had learned how to read G'dar like they shared a mental or emotional link, though this was not the case. It often appeared that way, and there were rumours even upon Nourasia (usually in parts of the planet the beetles didn't inhabit) that beetle mounts and their riders were bonded… but they were simply well attuned to each other. Nonetheless, that particular shriek sent Aikka's heart thumping, fight or flight. A shadow fell over them and the Prince looked up, only to see a huge, bulbous plant come toppling into the ravine almost atop them, the roots holding it in place severed by a modified Crog Destroyer's energy weapons. Apparently, Kross wasn't through reminding the Prince who his "true friends" were.
Sometimes, mount was so well attuned to rider that even the direst of circumstances could be navigated out of via Aikka's level-headedness and training. And sometimes, rider was too well attuned to mount and he lost his nerve himself. This time was the latter.
Aikka didn't yell or cry out. G'dar was screeching enough for the both of them. He clung to his mount, his friend, with all of his strength, but it wasn't enough. He was flung a little way from the beetle in the impact.
A flash of pain, a moment of blackness, and then the resigned young Prince was wearily picking himself up and dragging himself back to G'dar. They would not be able to continue the race; he could hear the soft warbles of pain between the shrieks of concern. They would have to try again in the next race, hopefully without prompting such action from the good General again.
He gently stroked his friend's carapace, soothing his concern and reassuring him even in their defeat. 'It's alright. I am well, and this is just one battle. We will do better.'
He looked up, hearing the Whizzing Arrow's engines approach. He just watched as they drew closer… until the gun turret sprung to life, and fired above him.
Terror filled him, and he shielded G'dar's vulnerable head with his own body. That human would attack his mount again?! Not after their agreement, surely! To think, he had actually believed that—
C-crack— THUD.
A huge, bug-eyed creature with a shark-like set of mandible-teeth, at least three times the size of G'dar, fell beside them, smoking holes in its carapace where Jordan's lasers had struck it down.
Shocked anger melted into shocked relief… and perhaps some gratitude. Maybe. He was a little too shaken to tell at that precise moment.
'We'll call it even.'
The race had ended. They had come fifth, scoring no points. Molly had been utterly miserable at what she perceived as failure, and a resigned Don had reluctantly admitted that he supposed it wasn't a complete disaster considering it was their first race on Oban.
Rick reacted to this negativity badly. Scratch that, he reacted violently.
Don Wei had received a smack upside the head which had nearly sent him face-first into the console, and a chewing out including but not limited to "What the hell is wrong with you?!" and "Fifth is only two places behind a point-scoring position!" and "We can track the doors now, it won't be as hard working the tracks" and so on and so forth.
Fortunately, he made valid points that boosted Molly's mood and vented enough that he was in a good mood too. Which had somehow, by some convoluted route, led to the team seated around with cups of tea and coffee whilst Rick bustled about the kitchen area like he lived there, making cucumber sandwiches.
Koji usually handled food, but Don had signalled him not to protest. "It's something for him to do," he'd explained quietly, "he doesn't want to feel useless."
The ex-racer looked surprisingly comfortable in the kitchen, humming to himself and working with skill and dexterity born not only of star racing but also practice. After a few minutes, he strode over weaving his way around assorted furniture, tools and other objects cluttering the way with balance and flexibility uncommon among most people, carrying a tray loaded with food as he did so.
Jordan was starting to understand how he was such a good racer. He tempered strength with grace, both qualities needed for such a career. And the boy was so often stunned by the omnipresent gentility that seemed inherent in everything Rick did. He was used to men of that size and presence being forceful and brutish, issuing both orders and punishments at whim. Rick, though, was by very definition a gentle giant. Even when smacking people upside the head, he was gentle. Enough to make his displeasure known and get the whole 'stop/don't do that again' sentiment through, but not enough to make you face-plant the floor. Not enough to really hurt. Back when Jordan had tackle-hugged him, and he'd tried to push him off with a hand against his face, he had still been gentle. It just seemed like something Rick loathed to do, like he couldn't bring himself to even when he was trying.
Jordan found it both refreshing and a great comfort.
He jerked in shock and discomfort when he felt someone rap their knuckles against his head. Blinking in surprise, he saw the very object of his musings standing above him smiling. "Ground control to Jordan C. Wilde, come in Jordan C. Wilde!"
The gunner blushed in embarrassment, aware of the others (minus Don) snickering. "Uh, sorry…"
"No problem. I was just asking if you wanted anything else."
He blinked. "U-um, no, thanks."
Rick just kept smiling. "Okay." He ruffled the boy's hair before settling next to Molly and engaging in conversation.
Jordan's brain took a couple of tries to restart. When it did, he could only smile.